Dawn
by obaona
Summary: L&M, H&L, and K&J. Post-NJO one shot.


Title: Dawn

Summary: Dawn from the POV of several people.

A/N: Written to get rid of writer's block – started six months ago, finished less than a month ago. ;)

Feedback: Treasured and adored. :)

***~*~***

The sun rose with perfect slowness. Faint sparks of dark blue came from the horizon, fading into darkness and a light sprinkle of stars splashed across the sky.

Luke glanced at Mara. She was sitting beside him on the hanging bench, which was attached to the top of the porch by strong metal beams. Her hair looked nearly black, with a slight red-ish hue, and with the faint beginnings of sunrise were just starting to highlight her face in tones of light blue. Even her loose, green sleep clothes looked blue in the singular color of the light.

She noticed him looking at her, and smiled. Luke smiled back at her, and put his arm around her shoulders. She gave into the silent request, and lay her head on his shoulder. Simply having her here was a gift for Luke. He had often feared losing her – had often feared losing so much, in the war with the Yuuzhan Vong. But it was over now, and he and Mara had made it through.

Made it through with a gift, even. The little redheaded toddler with Luke's eyes was quietly sitting in his mother's lap. He was awake, his blue eyes alert and wide, but seemed to understand the stillness of the moment, and merely watched the sunrise with his parents.

His family. He had rarely permitted himself to dream of this much. He never thought, of course, that he would gain his own family by the ways he did – Mara by nearly dying, nearly turning, and Ben by the disease and cure that had somehow made her more fertile.

Was it wrong, he wondered, to find new happiness in a time with such death and grief? Anakin, Chewie . . . the list of names had grown through the years. Jedi that he had known, Jedi he had trained, and Jedi he hadn't known at all were among that long list. But he believed it was not wrong.

He didn't forget the losses; he merely balanced them with joys. 

***~*~***

It was truly beginning to look like dawn now – the formerly dark blue edge settled on the horizon had brightened, and other colors began to seep upward into the sky.

Mara adjusted Ben in her lap. He silently permitted it, unusually quiet. Her son was normally full of excess energy, which she was certain he had gotten from Luke.

Her son. She had never really given children much thought, even as an adult and after the Empire. There were always other things to do – other things to be more concerned with than daydreaming about unlikely possibilities. 

Of course, marrying Luke hadn't been much of an unlikely possibility in her mind – it had been too outrageous to even think of, really. But it had happened; the Force brought them together, and she thanked the fact that it had. Most of the time. She sometimes felt as if Luke had given her more than his love, but had also, as the years passed, taught her to be happy. To understand the joys in life. Little, or big.

Or big in little packages, she thought, tightening her arms around Ben. 

In the corner of her eye, she caught Luke smiling at her. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head, silently dismissing her wordless question. He pulled her closer to him, and she put her head on his shoulder.

It was amazing, when one truly thought about it. Years of war had passed. So many had fought, and died. And they had all suffered. She with her disease, and drawing away from Luke. Leia and her family had suffered much as well – had gotten through only partially intact, but stronger than ever for all of their scars. She ached at the thought. But it had ended – if not the way any of them had dreamed or anticipated – and that seemed, for the moment, to be of primary importance. This peaceful moment reigned supreme, and Mara was content to keep it that way.

She felt Luke gently kiss the top of her head, and she ran her hands through Ben's silky hair. 

And she smiled.

****

***~*~***

Little shots of purple and orange lit up the edge of the sky.

Leia inhaled the fresh air, and stepped out to the doorway of the porch. It was peaceful here, and that was the reason she and her family had come. The endless plains were empty and soothing on this mid-Rim, colony world. The war was over, and after all the fighting, it was time to pause and take stock of wounds only partially taken care of in the battle to survive. At least, such was what Leia had thought.

Somehow, in the years that had passed, the stabbing pain that always threatened to pull her down had subsided into the gentleness of acceptance. She wasn't quite sure when it happened, and in fact thought that it had been so gradual no time could be pinpointed, but she was glad of it. The memory of Anakin and the others lost in the war would always bring with them a pang of sorrow, regret, and pain. But they were expected emotions, as familiar as old friends.

And because of it, she had grown to treasure the family she still had all the more.

Smiling, she noticed Luke and Mara, with their son Ben, on the old-fashioned porch swing. Mara was showing an unusual willingness to accept Luke's display of affection – he was holding her protectively. Ben sat in her lap, clearly awake but otherwise calm and content to be still.

A slight touch to her waist startled her. She turned her head to find Han Solo standing by her. The slight touch firmed, and he put his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. Leia silently leaned her head against his chest, and one of his hands came up to stroke her hair. Neither of them spoke.

But after a moment, Han let her go, an almost regretful quality to the way his touch lingered. He held one of his fingers to his lips, and in an exaggerated manner began to creep away, towards the peaceful Luke and Mara. Leia slapped his arm, shaking her head and not even trying to repress her smile. 

He grinned at her. They embraced each other as one – Han still grinning and Leia with a soft smile. 

And she still had Han, of course.

****

***~*~***

Fierce orange and red lit up the edge of the sky.

Han smiled and held Leia tighter. She responded by sighing contentedly. And it was a content moment. Han hadn't really meant to spoil it for Luke and Mara – the kid certainly deserved it. They all did. He knew exactly what Leia would do when she figured out what he was up to – hell, that was half the reason he tried it. And he bet she knew it, too.

A little peace was nice. Sometimes it felt to Han as if he'd spent his entire life fighting for one thing or another. His life, his family, and the galaxy at large. Of course, his adventures and travels had given him as more things than they had taken away – Leia, his children. A family, people he loved. Lost were Anakin and Chewie. He would never forget them – _could not – but he could rejoice in what he still possessed._

It was a hard lesson learned. 

He suddenly realized he was holding Leia rather tightly, and loosened his grip, looking down at her to see if she was all right. 

She was looking up at him serenely, smiling. Her brown eyes glowed with affection, love, and understanding.

Han began to speak, to explain his sudden sadness, the sudden remembrance that hit at the oddest times, but she lifted up a hand, gently covering his mouth, and silently shook her head. Not in denial, really, just a simple 'no' to what he was thinking. She smiled again, and caressed his cheek, ignoring the rough stubble. 

Han put his hand on hers, still so smooth and small against his own. She turned his head slightly, almost more of a nudge than a guide. Han followed her eyes, and smiled.

Then his eyes met hers again, and they both smiled.

****

***~*~***

It was becoming dawn. The horizon glowed with pink and soft yellow, and the rest remained a slightly darkened blue that was steadily getting closer to soft, baby blue.

Jaina sighed when she saw it. She hadn't seen many dawns in her life, not like this one – where the entire world was covered with a rainbow of colors as the sun slowly rose. Yavin IV's were often disguised by the heavy jungle, Coruscant never had night, and space had no dawn at all. So this was different for her – this beautiful spread of color, showering over the plains and everything in them.

She stepped fully out into the kitchen, which had a huge bay window overlooking the plains and the sunrise. She could see Luke and Mara sitting outside, and her parents were by the door, also looking out. They glanced at her, noting her presence, then returned their attention to each other, appearing to blissfully content. Jaina smiled, wondering if she would have that kind of relationship, that kind of contentment, after everything they had gone through – war, children, loss. 

A gentle kiss on her neck told her yes. Jaina smiled and turned her head to meet her husband's piercingly green eyes. 

And there they were. Not the emerald green that Mara had, but darker and filled with other colors – brown, black, even a dark blue.

Kyp Durron's hand slipped around her waist from behind, and she leaned back against his solid form, closing her eyes briefly. Kyp. Sometimes it seemed so natural to her, to have fallen in love with him and married him. Other times, it seemed the strangest thing in the world, and she would look at him and wonder when she dropped into an alternate universe. And then Kyp would look at her, and she'd know that even if she did drop into an alternate universe . . . she wasn't quite ready to leave yet.

She had joked with her brother that one of them had to follow the family tradition of choosing odd – yet good – life partners, since he insisted on marrying Danni, who had a perfectly normal background. Luke and Mara, her own parents . . . He had smiled patiently, and asked her perfectly deadpan why in the galaxy she would think that was a family tradition.

Kyp's hand rubbed her stomach, bringing her back to the present. She turned around fully, to face him, and met his eyes. He paused at whatever he saw in hers, and then a steady grin crept over his face. 

Jaina resisted the urge to smack him out of principle, and merely raised her eyebrow instead. He looked suitably chastened, though a tiny smirk lurked at the corner of his lips. 

Relatively satisfied, Jaina lay her head on his chest and closed her eyes, the expression of contentment never leaving her face.

***~*~***

Only a soft glaze of yellow and pink along the skyline remained of the colors of the sunrise. 

Jaina was a warm, solid weight against him; his sunlight. Seeing her, standing in the kitchen with the warm colors playing across the skin not covered by sleepclothes, he could not resist touching her, affirming to himself that she was real, that she was his. This beautiful, young woman. 

He still wasn't quite sure how he fell for her. She was younger than him, the only daughter of a man he greatly respected, and did she ever have a smart mouth. But on the other hand, she was caring, loving, and in some ways, very wise. At times she had startling clear insight, and at other times, he felt like he ought to knock some sense into her. Something beyond that tough exterior had called to him, and kept calling until he answered it. Things seemed to stand in his way – the war, Jag, the war . . . But those all passed, and in one witty, infuriating argument, they kissed. 

For once, he had seen the woman; not the Jedi, not the daughter, not the warrior. Just her.

That she had actually seen something lovable in him was still amazing. When he looked at himself, he saw a man – handsome, yes. But he was a man with darkness he had not controlled in the past, and at times felt little capable of controlling in the present, much less the future. He saw a man whose only worth was as a warrior. 

Jaina, evidently, had seen something different. She hadn't wanted to fall for a warrior, he thought, because she didn't want a man to fall for the warrior in her. A warrior is what she was, but it was not all she could be. 

Their relationship had progressed slowly but surely over a period of several years. He had gotten to see the different sides of Jaina – vulnerable and sad to triumphant and arrogant. They fought. She snapped at him for his ego. And yet, there was some kind of strange, wonderful perfection in the moments they had together. It seemed that eventually they just gave into the inevitable, instead of making an actual decision to spend the rest of their lives together. 

They still fought, naturally. Though Han assured him before his wedding and right after a few nicely worded death threats that Jaina would have him well-trained in no time not to argue. 

Kyp wasn't precisely looking forward to that part, but then again . . . could you be trained without realizing it?

Jaina opened her eyes and looked up at him, and Kyp knew suddenly that you most certainly could be trained without knowing it. That look was captivating, enchanting . . . He danced to her tune, even if _she didn't realize it. She smiled, and he knew he was beaten._

Still, it went both ways. She raised her eyebrow at him again, but this time Kyp ignored it and pulled her closer to him.

"Look," he whispered to her, motioning with his chin behind her.

She turned away from him, and looked out the kitchen window, beyond her parents and aunt and uncle, to the sky. 

Kyp rubbed her stomach again – still flat – and smiled. Then he whispered, "It's a new day."

[fin]


End file.
